


Coffee With Cream

by Nellblazer



Category: American Gods (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Crossover, Diners, F/M, Gods, Inappropriate Behavior, Love Triangles, Rivalry, Slow Burn, Violence, Waiters & Waitresses, Worship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: Pulling a double shift at the diner is hard work but when two men suddenly start showing up all the time, you don't mind it so much.A collaboration with Feliciahardyn
Relationships: Frank Castle/Reader, Mad Sweeney (American Gods)/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	1. The Diner

**Author's Note:**

> Feliciahardyn and I have been raving about Frank and Sweeney for a while so we decided to do a crossover fic.  
> She will be writing from the reader perspective, I will be writing from Sweeney's perspective (occasionally Frank)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warnings: Sexism, inappropriate behaviour
> 
> \- NB xx
> 
> (Cover art edited by me)

****

**Morning shift:**

Another day, another chaos. The buzz of the diner was in full swing as you raced to another table filled with new patrons after the previous ones just got up and left, leaving a generous tip for you as you wiped the surface clean and picked up the dirty dishes.

It was a daily occurrence for you to deal with the bustle. Mornings are always the most hectic. You had to pace back and forth from one table to another, wrote down their orders and carefully carried their meals and beverages to the starved consumers.

It was around 10 AM, entering brunch hours when _he_ walked in.

Another ring above the door echoed in the clamorous room. You had grown so acclimatized to the sound, that you barely noticed it even chimed. It was basically the soundtrack of the early hours at the diner. So it didn’t interrupt your brief conversation with one of the patrons who had just ordered a black coffee with pancakes as you penned them down on your notepad.

You turned around to give the order to the cook but was shortly hindered by a dark-haired man with perfectly neat stubble the lower part of his face. You weren’t paying attention to your surroundings due to the rush, so your body crashed with a taller dark figure that was walking in your direction.

“Oh, sorry, sir.” You were stunned. You couldn’t help but quickly notice the mysterious appeal of this man as his deep brown eyes looked into yours. For a second, it felt like the noise in the room suddenly faded into the background. You weren’t one in believing “love at first sight” but you definitely knew an attractive man when you saw one. And you were allured.

He quickly caught you by the shoulders and you loved the temporary moment that you had with him. His touch didn’t last long but you sure as hell wished it had.  
  
“My mistake.” He shrugged it away like it was nothing. Then he walked away to the last booth in the corner and sat near the window. For a second there, you almost forgot what you were currently in the middle of, until you heard your name being called by one of the cooks.

“I’m coming.” You glanced at the lonesome man whom your fellow waitress co-worker was taking orders from once more before you quickly took another cooked order from the counter. You heard the indistinct murmur of the words ‘pancake’ and ‘a cup of espresso coffee’ being spoken by the man. Funny how despite his protruded emanation, he still made a common order.

But with him in only a few feet away from where you were standing, things were just getting interesting.

An hour passed by and you were still pacing back and forth from pantry to one table to another. Until the commotion began to dwindle down, and you could just sit back behind the counter and wait for the remaining ones to get up and leave.

The blonde-haired man who had been indecorously eyeing you up and down after you first interacted with him to take his order earlier got up from table two and you were a tad relieved that he was finally about to leave. You just had to deal with him one more time and hopefully, you would never have to see his obnoxiously hideous face ever again.

Maybe you should consider spitting on a patron’s food next time, so they would have no interest in returning due to the bad service or unpleasant food ever again. Well, you’ll keep that in mind.

For now, you were trying to make yourself look as collected as possible despite attempting to hide your disgust on his predatory eyes. He neared toward where you were sitting, which was behind the cashier machine and you tried not to vomit right there.

“How much is it, hot stuff?” You couldn't mask your repugnance at his catcalling. But you neglected it, maintaining your professionalism.

“That’ll be $4.50, and don’t call me hot stuff.”

“Then give me your name, sweet cheeks.” He winked and crudely smirked at you as if he had just aced the last word. The truth was… It only made the idea of spilling a drink on his pants even more intriguing.

“Are you going to pay for your meal or not?” Then he scrambled through his pocket to unfold his wallet then he pulled out a few bucks and placed it on the counter in front of you. You took it without giving him a convivial look and a thank you, and immediately placed the money in the cashier machine.

“No smile for me? I give you some pretty generous tips there.”

“Go fuck yourself. Your tips’ pretty average anyway.” Then you turned your body against him but he abruptly stopped by harshly grabbing your wrist. You tried to release it out of his vicious grip, but this obnoxious man was much stronger than your liking.

“Let go of me!”

“You fucking rude bitch couldn’t even give me a smile, huh? I could get your ass fired out of here, you know that?”

“I said let go!”

What you didn’t notice was the inscrutable man who was sitting in the corner booth, had gotten up and approached the scene. He stood right next to the man that was harassing you, and he immediately put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, pal, let the lady go, alright? She’s not interested.”

“Who the fuck are you? Mind your own fuckin’ business, pal.” Then he released your wrist and immediately pushed the enigmatic man by the shoulders and it elicited a fire out of him. He didn’t look the slightest bit frenzied but he looked rather enlivened by the son of a bitch’s ineptitude and he was primed for whatever was going to go down. He then pushed the schmuck back, catching him off guard.

“You’re gonna regret that.” He sneered through his wounded ego. The mysterious man only kept his cold-hard stare at him and stood unwavering. The obnoxious man then threw a punch at him but he effortlessly dodged it like he saw it coming, then he miserably tried to throw a punch at him once more, but was caught and stopped effortlessly with only a single clench of his hand, then the mysterious man encased his fist and twisted it to the point where the schmuck gave away his pain through his face.

“Who regrets it, now?” The mysterious man gritted as his nostrils flared. The obnoxious man was shorter than him but somehow, he seemed into shrank down before this man.

“Not so tough now huh? You gonna say something? Hmm?”

“No, please, please! I’ll fucking leave, just let me go!” He begged through his visible terror.

He let him go with a slight push and the obnoxious man instantly fled and ran for his life. He exited through the door and didn’t look back.

After the mysterious man made sure that the little coward was out of sight, he shifted his gaze to your direction and his energy immediately improved. It turned into a warmer, more civil look. In fact… He seemed a little nervous. He was so certain of himself when he tamed down that bastard, but now he looked like a shy man who was nervous to talk to a pretty lady.

“You uh… You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Thank you.” You threw him a tiddly smile to truly show your gratitude. But you were also a tad amused by the rapid transformation in him.

“No problem. So uh… Do you deal with those kinda assholes often?”

“On some unfortunate days, yeah. There are two types of assholes though. One who miserly tips and the other who’s like the one you just terrorized to death.”

“Yeah, it can get pretty unpredictable working here, huh?”

“You got that right.” You sighed as you placed your hand on the counter to lean on it.

“So, do I get to know the name of my knight in shining armour?”

He shook his head and chuckled and if your vision wasn’t playing tricks on you, you think he was even slightly blushing.

“The name’s Frank. Frank Castle.”

“Well, Frank, Frank Castle… My name’s y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You shook hands whilst still maintaining unfaltering eye contact with the man. You chatted for a while before he paid for his meal and said his goodbye. You couldn’t remember seeing a smile on his dashing face before that. But you were glad that you did before he was out of sight.

“ _I’ll see you around.”_ Those four words loomed in your head throughout the entire day, making you smile like a starstruck idiot. You took the bus to ride back home and you put on your favourite happy song. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this giddy. You didn’t have a clue as to when you were going to see this man again but, you sure as hell were going to meet him in your daydream.

  
  


  
**Evening shift:**

  
  


After being kicked out of every local bar, Sweeney's drinking options were becoming thin.

Sure he could just buy whiskey from the grocery store and drink it from the bottle but that was verging on being the drunk under the bridge territory and he'd had enough of that for one lifetime. He certainly didn't miss the thumping hangovers or the aches of sleeping on the cold ground. He _definitely_ didn't miss the gobshite kids who kicked him whilst he was asleep for fun or who stole the last of his alcohol.

For having a lucky coin, he sure did run into a lot of problems and they'd all started when he'd left Illinios in disgrace. Brooklyn hadn't been much more welcoming but at least he could make fun of the “Irish” bars that seemed to dot about the place....maybe he shouldn't have made as much fun as he did because he was thirsty and it was a need only booze would fill.

He stumbled upon a diner, unassuming and hidden and with that faded flaking majesty of an era long gone by, an era Sweeney missed fondly because you could get a slice of pie and a hard drink for little cash and every now and then he'd catch a glimpse of some lady's stocking top as a gust of wind hit.

He pulled his denim jacket around him, wishing it was still socially acceptable to have cloaks before pushing the door open where an old fashioned bell above tinkled. He could tell this place was a relic but he already loved it for that.

He walked to the red stools next to the counter and relished the warmth of the place and the wafting smell of coffee that lingered and mixed with the scent of pastry.

Sweeney wasn't expecting you to pop up from behind the counter as suddenly as you did and he clutched his chest as he flinched.

“Fuckin' hell!” he exclaims.

“Sorry!” you look mortified to have made him jump. “People keep dropping things over here.”

He wished he could say he was a gentleman and looked at your face first but....he didn't. His eyes travelled up the waitress uniform, following the line of your body until he finally lingered on the sweet face that was shyly tucking a stray hair behind the ear.

“Not to worry, little lasslin'. Woke me up. Got any whiskey for a weary man?”

“I sure do but not the expensive stuff.”

“I'm not particular,” he tries for a charming smile, hoping it lands.

“One whiskey coming up,” you smile back, although he's sure it's your default customer smile.

Nice all the same.

It had been a long time since a bonnie girl had smiled at him.

You brought the whiskey over as he was playing with his coin and your eyes immediately darted to it. Sweeney could see the flare of interest there.

“That's unusual,” you nod at it. “Seems old. Family heirloom?”

“You could say that,” he chuckles, holding it out for you to take.

He watches you study it, feeling an almost sense of pride that for once someone was interested in something that was essentially him and not what he could do for them. When your fingers trace the lines of the sun, he's mesmerised by the care you're taking with it.

“It's really pretty,” you hand it back.

He leans forward and you lean in too, “Not as pretty as you, mind.”

You took it in the spirit it was meant and didn't give him a slap so that was encouraging at least. He twirls the coin between his fingers before presenting it again.

“They say this is the very treasure of the sun. It bestows luck to whoever holds it n' the sun's good grace.”

“I could do with some of that right now,” you laugh.

“Got some problems?”

“There was an incident this morning with a customer,” you sigh, smoothing down the apron but you didn't elaborate. “Happens.”

“Well I tell ya what. I like this place already and so long as I'm around, no fucker is gonna spoil yer day. How about that?”

“What's your name?” you ask.

“Sweeney.”

“Nice to meet you Sweeney. Can I get anything else for you?”

“What's the best pie ya got?”

“Apple is always the favourite but between you and me, the Mississippi Mud Pie is better,” you whisper conspiratorially. “But don't tell my boss I said that.”

“Not a word,” he zips over his mouth before draining his glass. “One a' that then, lasslin' n' another whiskey.”

Sweeney can't help but watch you as you work, setting the glass down in front of him before serving him up a slice and he notes you look around to check as if you're doing something you shouldn't before putting both cream and ice cream on the side. You pass it along to him with a finger over your lips.

“You're only supposed to get one technically,” you wink.

“Yer very good to me, sweetheart,” Sweeney smiles broadly. “This is already my favourite diner I've ever been too n' don't worry, I'll keep my promise. Nobody will insult ya, hurt ya or upset ya whilst I'm here.”

“I'd best serve some other customers. Don't want them to think I'm playing favourites,” you give him a tiny wave before scooting off to refill coffee.

You were right, the pie was fantastic and he almost cried to discover the ice cream appeared to be the homemade variety. It had been so long so he'd had any type of cream that wasn't artificial. He was so sick of being summoned to his worshipper's homes and given dime store whip that tasted like the back end of a plastic conveyor belt.

He put down his money, giving a large tip and sliding it near to where you were making cocoa for someone. He ended up doing a coin trick out of habit which you watched with raptured interest before taking the cash.

“Thanks,” you smile brightly at him. “I'm heading off after this, split shift wears a girl out but if you ever come back, you have to teach me how to do that.”

“I'll teach ya anything ya want for good conversation and more pie,” he laughs.

“Deal. See you around Sweeney,” you head into the back room to change before a surly looking older man comes out to replace you.

This man wasn't nearly as interesting as you were and Sweeney's attention went back to drinking. Funnily enough, he'd forgotten all about that burning thirst to get obliterated when talking to you. There was something so easygoing, so comfortable about you that it felt like he'd lifted his head above the fog of his alcoholism for the first time in years.

Oh he'd definitely be back alright. He wouldn't fuck things up this time. He really liked it here.

And as he watched you in your normal clothes stride out into the darkening night, he thought maybe ending up here was lucky after all.

  
  


  
  



	2. That Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reflect on your day in the diner and Sweeney runs into some trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Strong language, violence
> 
> Reader section by feliciahardyn, Sweeney section by me
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> \- NB xx

**Back Home:**

You laid in your bed that night with a romance novel that you hadn't had the chance to pick up and finish in awhile due to the weariness of working double shifts. It's the same old pattern for the last few years; you'd get up early for your morning shift at the diner, rushed back home to take a little break, and possibly enjoy your catnaps before your second alarm rings for your night shift.

And then when the night was ending, you'd take another bus to get yourself home, take a shower and eat your takeout or heat up your frozen pizza, and went to bed. For years, life was merely a repetitive cycle of humdrum. You barely had time for yourself due to your relentless endeavour to stay afloat.

Living in Brooklyn when you come from a middle-class family means that you really had to fight tooth and nail to pay the bills and fill your fridge. You were raised to be an independent and hardworking person by your parents and that's why it wasn't much of a challenge for you to work double shifts at a diner when you could've taken one. You taught yourself to push through your boundaries in life, and you were aware that sometimes it's not always convenient but at least you were proud of your own effort.

That also means you didn't have time to swipe right and left on Tinder and find yourself a date. It was nearly impossible to find a decent guy in Brooklyn, let alone trusting a dating app that could possibly be utilized by creeps or murderers to find their next victim. Although your co-workers had suggested it many times to you, you refused to present yourself to the angels of death just simply you were desperate to get laid.

But tonight was different from the others. It was comical, really, how one, well, _two_ , actually people could walk into your life, okay that was dramatic, walk into a diner and elevated the sour mood that you had grown used to in recent years, and made a difference. A good one.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a genuine smile on your face. You also couldn't remember when was the last time you felt butterflies in your stomach. And here you are, lying in bed, replaying the scenes that took place earlier. In the daylight when the bustle was in full swing and in the night-time when the city was placid.

You barely knew anything about them and you had only met them in less than 24 hours, but, you could still remember the way Frank Castle made you feel when his brown eyes stared intensely into yours as he shook your hand. The quiet yet magnetic force that he exuded only compelled you to learn more about him. In the brief conversation that you had earlier, you knew that he was a wanderer of a man.

He'd been hoping from one place to another, but he was thinking of staying in Brooklyn for a while and you were hoping that nothing changes his mind about that. You were really hoping that you'd see him again real soon.

And then, your thoughts drifted to the second man that you encountered with earlier. His auburn hair burned the lights in the room, causing a small fire that you didn't light up. But his amorous words had left you starstruck in a way that you didn't know was possible. You weren't one to stumble on a brazenly flirtatious man but something about him was too tempting to be overlooked. And the fact that he had this eccentric thing for coins made you wonder... What else has he got up in his sleeve?

  
  


**In the Streets:**

Sweeney hadn't been able to get you off his mind all night.

The grumpy server who'd taken over had definitely not been a patch on your sunny optimism or brimming curiosity. He couldn't remember the last time a girl was so interested in his stories. Usually he got brushed off as a leering drunk or just a plain old letch but you'd entertained him, asked questions and given him a form of fresh cream to boot, all for him. A form of worship as it was.

You hadn't realised it of course, nobody ever believes in gods these days unless they're the Big Three or the Norse pantheon. Little old Sweeney with his Celtic cohort was hardly going to register on anyone's radar. I mean, fuck, nobody could even say his actual name right, let alone believe he was a god.

Even so, he felt refreshed, more refreshed than he'd been in years and when he got absolutely blasted on whiskey, the feeling was not the same as it was. The crippling existentialism was gone to be replaced by joyfulness and he sang most of the way home, thoroughly amusing everyone on his way back with his rude songs. He even danced with an old lady like they used to do in the twenties which he thought had made her night as she blushed furiously and began saying it'd been a while since she'd danced with a young man in the street.

Sweeney was having the time of his life, precisely up until he got in the alleyway and his loud singing got him into trouble.

There was a group of thugs hanging around in the middle, trying to sort something out but Sweeney didn't care to venture too close to find out what precisely.

“ _-Well I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me, who owns that thing in your thing where my own thing should be!_ ” he belts out, stumbling slightly in their direction and he sees the flash of irritation on their faces.

The next thing he knew he was getting dog piled on. Bodies seemed to leap on him from every corner and all he could think about was protecting his coin at all costs so he sent it in the Hoard, the magical hiding place for his treasure and once he'd taken a few harsh licks to the gut, he tried to pull himself together to fight back.

Drunken brawling was his speciality after all.

He wasn't expecting it when a couple of the gang members were yanked off of him. He took the opportunity to jump back to his feet, delivering a haymaker to the nearest lad who's cheek splintered under his weighted punch. The kid dropped to the floor like a stone, howling about his face.

The next man behind him, he twisted and grabbed around the middle, running them backwards to the edge of a dumpster before letting go and watching his head clang noisily off the metal as they fell backwards.

Oh it had been a good long while since he'd had a fight. He missed the adrenalin, he missed the cracking of bones and the taste of blood. It spoke to his soul that was millennia old when the world was war, ale and feasting.

Sweeney finally looked up to see that another man was fighting with him, a shorter man, stockier and well built, a nose that'd been broken at least once and the buzzcut styling of an ex-military man. The newcomer shifted his position and Sweeney saw a painted skull on his chest. His first thought was that Baron Samedi was expanding his worshipper's network but it didn't make sense for the Baron to recruit a soldier when he preferred his company to be a little more love and less war.

Who the fucking hell was this guy?

“You okay?” the man asks gruffly as he sees Sweeney staring at him. “Get out. Run.”

“I ain't fuckin' runnin',” Sweeney wrinkles his face in offence. “Do I look like a pansy to you?”

“You look fuckin' drunk is what ya look,” Skull Man counters, elbowing an attacker in the mouth. “I'll handle it. Run home.”

“Callin' me a coward?” Sweeney squares up. “I don't run, boy-o.”

“Really?” Skull Man raises an eyebrow. “Ain't the time for pride, Big Red. Fight or don't fight then. I don't care. Just stay outta my way with that one.”

He points to the man who Sweeney had knocked out on the dumpster. His eyelids were fluttering as he started to regain consciousness.

“What's it worth to ya?” Sweeney shrugs.

“Are you fuckin' kidding me?!” Skull Man storms over, coming up until he was chest to chest. “I save your ass and this is what I get?”

“Didn't ask to be saved, lad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, right back.”

Just at the point where Sweeney is curling his fingers into a fist, ready to give a good old right hook, he's hit hard in the head from behind and goes down onto his forearms, scuffing them with pebbles and dirt. He scrambles unsteadily to his feet, feeling a little trickle of blood oozing down the path of his hair and sees Skull Man beating the living shit out of the dumpster guy before finishing him off with his bare hands.

Sweeney, meanwhile, jumps back into the fist fight, taking down every other gang member who'd dared to get back up. They make a break for it, running desperately down into the other alleyways and out of sight.

“You'd better run!” Sweeney bellows after them. “You'd all be fucked if I still had my spear. I WAS A FUCKING KING ONCE, YOU CUNTS!”

“I've heard some drunk talk in my time but you...” Skull Man shakes his head. “You're crazy, huh?”

“I'm a god, mate,” Sweeney holds out his arms proudly, swaying on the spot.

“Sure ya are.”

“And what the fuck are you, murderer?”

“Nobody you need to know about. You ain't seen me. I don't exist. I'm just taking out the trash of this city.”

“Oh aye? Are ya? And what did he do?”

“Shot up a playground.”

“Oh...” Sweeney tails off, looking at the dead man on the floor. “Well....good then. Good work. Bastard deserved it.”

He holds out his hand and Skull Man shakes it warily. Sweeney got the sense the guy didn't interact with people much because the handshake was stilted, unsure.

“Got a name?” Sweeney asks. “Or are ya hellbent on being mysterious?”

“It's Frank,” the guy replies after a pause. “But I was-

“-Never here, I got that,” Sweeney snorts. “I'm Sweeney.”

“Sweeney the God. A'ight, go on home then. I got clean up to do.”

“Nice fightin', by the way,” Sweeney calls over his shoulder. “See ya around, Frank.”

“I fuckin' hope not,” comes the quiet response.

Sweeney didn't care though. He was too elated to care. Good booze, a good fight and the promise of going back to that sweet little diner where you were.

He'd have to come in earlier just to spend more time around you. He wanted to know everything about you and more than anything, he wanted to see your smile again.

A god he may be but your smile was absolutely magical.

He sang the whole rest of the way home, already looking forward to tomorrow.

  
  



End file.
